The ambulance lights painted the hospital hallway in pulses of red and blue, but all I saw was Cindy’s pale face, her hand trembling in mine. "She’ll be fine," the nurse said about Kathy, but I didn’t care. Not then. I had just saved Cindy from the wreckage, leaving Kathy pinned in the car, bleeding out while I held another woman’s hand. \n\nMabel screamed for her mom in the waiting room, but I told her to be quiet. "Aunt Cindy needs peace," I said. When they asked for a blood match, I didn’t hesitate—I demanded Kathy donate, even unconscious. Richard lunged at me, shouting something about compatibility, but the doctors listened to me, not him. \n\nNow, hours later, Kathy is gone. The words "excessive blood loss" echo like a curse. And Mabel won’t look at me. \n\nRena whispers one name: "Cindy." Her eyes are sharp, unlike her frail body. "Check the records, Jacob. Check them." \n\nBut Cindy sobs softly beside me, clinging to my arm. The doctor approaches—her test results are ready.